


The World, Underground.

by Vixenility



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Clubbing, Clubbing but make it weird, Eventual Smut, F/F, Inspired by Dirrty (Music Video), POV Third Person Omniscient, Romance, Slash, Slow Build, Tags subject to change as it goes on, Weird Plot Shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixenility/pseuds/Vixenility
Summary: Jill Valentine needs to de-stress and Carlos Oliveira drags her into a crazy world to make that happen. Just when she's thinking of leaving, she sees someone familiar in the Foxy-Boxing ring.Her partner's sister.
Relationships: Claire Redfield/Jill Valentine
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a working progess, just to see how it goes!
> 
> Follow me on twitter @Vixenility

Jill Valentine's head throbbed incessantly no matter how much she massaged her temples. Elbows planted firmly on the desk, palms kneading her entire face and head and the constant pencil eraser tapping on wooden desk. Besides that annoying, rhythmic sound, was the whistling of an off-color, old as dust itself, computer and the click-clacking of someone furiously typing into their keyboard. Somehow, all of those sounds were incredibly grating today when usually they would just be ambiance noise, oddly endearing like the sound of her partner -- Chris Redfield, rebel boy turned special S.T.A.R.S officer -- humming along to the tune in his head and Barry walking by with his heavy, polished boots, mumbling his tasks to remember them.

Not today. Today even the sound of the wood creaking had her on edge, the sound of her chair squeaking as she reclined back upset her, and the barely-functional air conditioner was making this summer afternoon a sweaty hell, especially now that it was just after lunch and the sun was unforgivably strong. A dangerous amount of stress just emanating from her body like the smell of subtle, feminine perfume. She could almost smell the stress (her OWN stress) mixed in with the sweat... and the smell of the hidden bottle of beer? Oh, gosh dang it, Brad.

Everyone noticed it, walking by with a wary step as to not to upset the ticking bomb within Jill that threatened to explode, yet never did. The first one to mention something about it was Chris, who turned around in his chair and faced her back, watching her just... massage her face desperately for relief.

"You okay there, Jill?" His voice was soft amongst the quiet office, though showing its concern in loud volumes.

Rather than lashing out at her partner, Jill sighed and composed herself. Without turning around, and without stopping her majestic massage (which was not working), she replied to him with a voice that was teetering on the brink of sounding like an angry, passive aggressive soccer mom. "I am fine, Chris. Just... busy."

"You look busy enough," Chris crossed his arms and his legs, watching amused at how Jill didn't even bother to give him a look.

"Yes, now can you leave me to it?"

The brunette man sighed and reached over, turning her around away from her desk at long last. Her face showed every sign of fatigue with just a dash of 'I want to kill Chief Irons', which was not uncommon in this office, especially not on Jill's face. Chris could know immediately what was happening. "Irons, wasn't it?"

Jill sighed and nodded, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "Irons."

Oh, Chief Irons was a dickhead with all the letters counted, measured, calculated and tailored for him to perfection. The man was creepy, first and foremost, as his taxidermy collection implied; only midly interested in the life of the dead after their life (if that makes sense). Also, the perpetual gloomy look of his office -- covered in dark, cherry oak furniture yet looking very distasteful and off-putting -- creeped Jill out each time she walked in. But that was the Chief, the man in charge of the STARS team. A wonder how a man with such an ambiguous life before (and even some time after) college could make it into such a high position relatively clean of scandals. Oh but, those scandals were laying dormant somewhere down the carpet, waiting to be shown to the public. 

But hey, this is Raccoon City, and this town had everything from the peculiar characters to the exciting ones; though it was a quiet town in its essence.

Chris, who now looked a bit more compassionate, leaned forth and patted her knee. "Why don't you take the weekend off like the rest of the team?"

Jill shook her head, then gesturing to the computer with a grand, graceful flourish that was trademark of cynical Jill. "Paperwork, reports and writing my will are all waiting for me, and I must finish them."

"Jill," Chris began, shaking his head. "I admire that you are really applied to your work, even if that means writing boring reports and possibly writing... your will...?" He squinted, just for a second before he continued swiftly. "But you should just give yourself the weekend, all three days."

The short-haired brunette groaned. "I feel like I shouldn't--."

"That's when you know you should totally take a break," Chris interrupted. "You look like you're ready to break into tears."

"A mental breakdown feels the closest, actually."

"Then even more reasons for you to take it."

"I'm fine," Jill insisted, rubbing her face.

Chris remained silent for a few moments, leaning back against his chair. "When was the last time you went out and got laid?"

Scandalous, especially because Jill could totally hear every person in the office (which was just two more people) stopping what they were doing completely. The computer whistled away but someone stopped typing completely -- a second too long before they started again, to resume like they did not hear. Jill felt too tired to be scandalized however, especially because this was her friend. It's not like they haven't discussed this in a while. Fun fact? With Jill reclining back even more and Chris crossing his legs, this looked like a scene from a therapist office and it damn near felt like one.

"Not for a long time," Jill finally replied after a thick pause of pure silence.

"Numbers, Jill," Chris chuckled. "How long?"

"Maybe seven months?"

Chris huffed, shaking his head. Nothing needed to be said about that, and it was better to have nothing said. With that the man stood up, giving her feet the slightest tap with his own. "Just consider it, before you need a shrink."

Jill, still staring at the ceiling in dispair, just nodded and waved him off, hearing his footstep get further and further until the door closed quietly behind him. The click-clack stopped, the pencil tapping stopped, but her head throbbed more with the decisions all piling up against one another. 

She considered it for a moment, truly. She did feel the boulder of stress weighing her down -- more like it was a ghost squeezing her head together with its ghostly palms. Knowing how much Chris cares for her, he's probably not exaggerating and if he is then it's to drive a point home. Perhaps she is pushing herself too hard, and maybe the heat was driving her crazy. Even now, she could feel the sweat starting to form in places that shall not be mentioned. And god knows how much she has been yearning to properly sleep. If not for the work she does over time, and if not for the fact that she sleeps late, she would have been bearing this heatwave a lot better.

And also, she has been ignoring her very human longing for touch. Has it really been seven months? She thought to herself, quickly counting the days and horrifyingly realizing it's been, in fact, almost a year. Not that she would tell Chris anyways, because she would never hear the end of it. Also, she stopped her own gasp from slipping past her mouth in the middle of the office. She has been giving up her life (social, sexual or just plain hedonistic life at that) for her job; an work-a-holic in the making with habits hard to shake off. A woman driven by duty and love for her work. Quite literally, she was the backbone for this team, the string that kept them all together in times of turmoil -- times that have passed since. Everyone was unwinding from the turbulent times but Jill somehow still felt a bit tense. Giving it further thought, she realized that Chris was quite right and meant something beyond his own words. She's worked hard and has not been rewarded, and will probably not be rewarded (because fuck you, Jill -- Signed with love by Chief Irons). She is praised for being focused, determined and stubborn with her work, and yet was never properly rewarded for it. Which was bullshit. Even more bullshit was that even she stripped away her own rewards when the time to claim them arrived.

If she kept that up, she would be finished and she has no idea for how long. The string that keeps the team together, the spine that makes this gargantuan body function, would cease to exist. Most importantly for the team, beyond team duties, was losing a friend to the stress of the duty. They should watch out for one another, like Barry said. Chris was doing just that. 

So, she glanced at her computer screen and noted the date. Thursday, a little past one thirty in the afternoon. Then she noticed the lone document posted right at the bottom right corner of the desktop -- a little note that should have totally been elsewhere. That note blared of a report due some measly ten hours away from that moment.

The headache got stronger and Jill got weaker, slamming her forehead into the desk and wishing death. The smell of beer got more intense, the whistling got louder, the air conditioner seemed to rumble with a warning of failure and the click-clacking resumed, ignoring the obvious thud of Jill's forehead against the desk.

A long day ahead, it seems.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been making slow progress on this, but slow progress is progress!

The well-rested Jill Valentine was melted into her couch one Saturday afternoon, wearing the thinnest shirt (which was nearly translucent at this point) and the shortest shorts. It was hot outside, too hot, and a little cooler inside. Not by much, but just enough. The TV was incredibly boring and she avoided news channels like the plague, idly passing through and catching a glimpse of several shows over and over again, only staying in one channel to see anything of interest before going back to channel surfing. The high-toned whistle of the TV was comforting in this lonely house, but if only there was actually something worth watching to accompany it.

With that report finished in record time and other obligations tied up neatly, all wrapped around with a bow for the still-grotesque Chief Irons, Jill took her free weekend and turned off her brain. As much as she could, at least. You may have noted that we jumped to Saturday, right? Well, that is no coincidence, considering that Thursday night had Jill cleaning like a maniac, making use of the cathartic practice to pass the time until it was quiet outside her home and late. When her body finally touched the cozy mattress and the bed sheets coiled around her like a monster gripping its victim, Jill completely failed to function any moment longer.

She slept for around twelve hours, feeling the tenseness of her body slowly undoing like knots slowly dissolving with a massage. Her dreams were absolutely nothing but the faint sounds of the neighbors business outside, the distant barking of a dog echoing in her brain, the phone possibly ringing, the cars zooming past, parking by and driving away... And yet, she saw absolutely nothing before her eyes, just a black static screen that let her peacefully sleep. No nightmares, no dreams, nothing. A black void of nothingness, a body so tired that could not even imagine anything.

When she woke up that Friday, she had a few voicemails that she ignored, finally ate without frantically shoving everything into her mouth at once, and laid back in bed, languidly tossing about as she drifted to sleep on and off. Something in her brain usually nagged for her to get up and do something productive, but the mere exhaustion had her succumb to it. Meanwhile, the voicemails were still there without anyone to listen to it. But Jill was not missing anything. A few voicemails from Chris to tell her about his Saturday night plans and how he wanted her to tag along, only to be followed by another voice message that said to cancel that plan for reasons not gone into. Barry has left a message just to ask how she has been holding up, if she was resting, not forgetting to cordially invite her to dinner should the occasion fit to her; he was only a call away! The next person on the voicemail was, the one and only, Carlos Oliveira.

That scruffy, good looking friend of hers. A charming one, though a little immature in SOME aspects, and strangely not consistently hitting on Jill. To him, she was a friend rather than a contest, as it was obvious they would not do well together. Instead, he dragged her along with him to adventures she would otherwise never take part of.

Exhibit A was the time Carlos and Jill accidentally found a cult in the outskirts of town while hiking up the popular trail towards the Arklay Mountains. An adventure which ended up with them frantically running away like scared foxes. Jill noted something useless but quite amusing: Carlos had a knack for finding really weird stuff on his way and was incredibly agile when running away though not stealthy given his knack for cursing -- without fail -- as he runs away. 

Exhibit B was the abandoned mansion incident, in which Carlos took (well, dragged) Jill to a party, in which some party attendants mentioned the abandoned mansion. As a dare, Carlos and Jill were told to go. Carlos returned to the party pale as the moon while Jill was largely concerned about Carlos though largely unamused.

Last but not least: Exhibit C, The Incident.

But we don't talk about The Incident.

This time, Carlos was a lot more mundane with his plans and demanded (that's right, demanded) for Jill to call him up before Saturday evening. It was just a party, as per usual, but it was a new establishment he found. He didn't specify anything, but he just told Jill it was nice. The chance to meet new people, see new faces, and discover something new was imminent and -- as always -- tantalizing to Carlos. So, by that logic, he'll drag Jill into it.

Because, why not?

Now, Saturday afternoon, just after lunch, Sleepyhead Jill felt her sleep crusted eyelids sore, somehow. She rubbed them awake, feet shuffling towards the bathroom. The shower curtains slid to give way to the zombie-like (hah) Jill and then the water spray sluiced through her hair and body with its healing touch. Only then, my friends, she was conscious and functioning. But it took her a while to remember the voicemails.

She was awake and thinking of what to do for the next hour, after all it was a Saturday and people would be out or doing something special. Her hair was already dried, her body was a lot more energized, her stomach was full and her mind was as free as possible from the obligations. The plants have been watered, the old lady next door has been greeted (the old lady sighed in relief to realize Jill was well and smiling), the newspaper has been read -- which was read incredibly fast but that was not monumental considering she skipped all the strong news deliberately -- and the fridge, cupboards and kitchen have been cleaned. Twilight was coming, the sun departing and giving its orange glow across the sky as it hid behind the horizon. And with that, the phone was finally ringing with a hint of warning echoing around the living room. It sat on the other end of her couch, on a little small table, iluminated by the lamp almost like a spotlight. It rang, it rang, and it rang, begging for Jill's attention.

Jill looked at it almost as if it was an alien, just letting it ring for a moment as her brain connected two and two together.

Who could it be?

Ring.

Did she check the mail? Yes.

Ring...

Did she check the voice messages?

RING!

She did not.

Jumping up, Jill reached over and answered the phone, nearly tripping in the process. "Hello?" She said, almost out of breath.

"Jill! Girl, where you been?" Carlos' gruff voice was friendly, and also only mildly concerned.

"Just been sleeping and... sleeping."

"All day?"

"Almost, I was just drained, I guess."

"I betcha you were more than drained. You always sleep eight hours on the dot."

Jill rolled her eyes, though it kind of amused her that Carlos -- who she knew much less than Chris -- was aware of that. While Carlos argued that she sleeps eight hours on the dot, Chris argued that she sleeps seven hours and fifty-eight minutes sharp just to save some time.

"I just didn't have anything disturbing me, so I slept through."

"You mean you didn't get my message?"

Jill, rubbing her eyes and adjusting back in a comfortable seat, took her time to reply. "I don't think so, I--."

"Then I'll make it brief, Valentine. Party, you and I, tonight. What'd you say?"

Jill, however, wasn't brief with her decision. Was she really up for a party tonight? Right now? That would imply a good chunk of effort and a lot of hassle to get there and get back. If she knew Carlos well, this wasn't JUST a party. There was a catch. By there being a catch, that meant that Carlos may have something in store for Jill. And yet, that didn't make Jill say no out right. Because in that catch was the allure of mystery, the allure of adventure, which she has stopped having after graduating college -- even before that. 

Physically, she could not say 'No' out right, despite her reasoning shouting at her for it. Sometimes, her brain did win the battle.

"I dunno man--."

"C'mon! Just tonight, it's gonna be fun. New people to meet and stuff. You haven't been out with me in ages."

"Four months, Carlos..."

"... Four months and five days. Which means it's time to break that record."

Jill's silence filled the spot of a witty remark that was coming far too slow.

Which Carlos took as victory. "Awesome! I'll see you in twenty minutes. Wear something nice!"

And then he hung up, leaving a slack jawed Jill attempting to cut him off to say 'NO' but... really, did she want to say that?

Sometimes, her heart, yearning for adventure and action, won against her brain.

She looked at the phone then, with a shrug, slammed it down and got up. Might as well shower and make herself smell nice right?

*

Well, it was quite warm outside, but not as hot as it was in the past few nights (and afternoons, too). The light breeze that teased their skins was not too much, if anything it may not be enough to cool things down. Jill's arm dangled outside the open window of Carlos' car, staring at the dark night sky decorated with twinkling stars, the occasional cloud that threatened to dissolve at any moment, and the moon -- ever pale, ever gorgeous. The air conditioner of the car coughed its pitiful cool breeze, embarrassingly making noises that almost seemed inhuman or impossible. It could not be turned off, for some reason, because the buttons for it were destroyed.

Quite funny to Jill in fact, but tonight it was a little more frustrating than usual. "You should really get that fixed," she commented softly against the rumbling of the engine. "It won't get you ladies."

Carlos, without taking his eyes of the road, shrugged. "That's what my smile is for."

Jill rolled her eyes, unable to stop her own smile. 

With that, she looked outside the window, giving a passing glance to the zooming houses and establishments. The night scene in Raccoon City was just like any other, except for the fact that this looked familiar and mildly nostalgic. The cars dashing past were either going home with their families or commuting, maybe they were also fishing for a hot spot for the night; a bar that was crowded with people other than the scary bikers, maybe a club that didn't have a long line to get into, or maybe a pub, a restaurant. A lot of the youngsters were looking for just about anything, because it was Saturday and nothing was lamer than staying at home doing nothing during a Saturday night.

The short-haired brunette awkwardly shrunk at her own thought, considering she's been -- countless of times -- the 'lame' one in that regard. But then again she wasn't, and anyone willing to say otherwise would receive a bullet to the knee if they were fortunate.

She saw each establishment she has been in throughout her years flashing past her, and soon they were entering... questionable territory. Raccoon City didn't necessarily have a 'wrong side of the tracks' kind of division, but rather it gradually became grittier and less pleasant as it went on. It's not that it scared Jill, but it made her wonder a few things about this party. Stopping at a red light, behind a short line of cars, Jill took this time to get Carlos' attention.

With a pointed tone, she glared at the fluffy, messy hairdo of a man relaxing behind the wheel. "Carlos, may I ask... where is this party of yours?"

"Not mine," he gave her a cool smile, looking at her as brief as ever. "It's not for me, I just got invited."

Oh, no.

"By who?"

"A friend of a friend, who is friends with the host of the party."

Jill already embraced the sweet taste of possible death. "Is it someone I know?"

"Nope."

"CARLOS."

"WHAT?! The idea is that you get out of your social circle some more, geez," he shrugged very casually, honking at the slowpoke in front of him and receiving a middle finger and a profanity for that, but no movement. 

"Yes but I am NOT going to die," Jill paused. "Not on the road, not on the battlefield and much less in a party."

"Pfftt, you're fine and you will be fine. I got you on my sights and I ain't leaving you behind."

Jill could not bark back at that comment, no matter how much she tried to.

"It's not a get-together from murderers, Jill. You need to relax."

Uh, well...

Just as he said that, the crowd hollered with drinks spilling from their cups. Dancing bodies, sweaty and dirty, bumped together enthusiastically, the bass of the club-song vibrated even deep in the underground, maybe even making the earth above and around them quake with the rhythmic heartbeat of the hard hitting base.

Ah, yes, you read that right. Underground.

Just above them was the abandoned warehouse of an old company, left there to rot with no one to buy it, catching dust and cobwebs for the curious young man to see it and get the lights scared out of him when someone decided to hide a scarecrow at the darkest corner of the warehouse. But right at this moment it was only mildly habitated by a few couple of people drinking beers, all nestled around the entrance and a good few standing around the elevator, only mildly illuminated by the flickering, sickly blue light in it. 

They hadn't even pulled up to it or parked by the parking lot when Jill already had a lot of thoughts going through her head. And, well, Jill was sure to keep her comments concealed expertly behind her professional face.

"Carlos, what the fuck is this?"

Oh.

Carlos tutted his tongue and shook his head. "Trust me, you'll love this."

As they finally parked, noting the several run down cars and vans parked about, Jill connected a few dots together. There were many cars for the small amount of people inside lounging just by the entrance, bathing in the moonlight's glow. She looked at Carlos with both amusement and bewilderment as the answers came along by themselves.

She's heard of this place and could not believe it.


End file.
